


The Clock's Clutches

by agentz123



Series: Donsy Week 2020 [1]
Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Annoying Siblings, Annoying Uncle-Dads, Astronomy, Body image problems, Donsy Week 2020 (Disney), F/M, First Dates, Small References from S3's "Quack Pack!", Three Cabs References, Twin Bond, blast from the past, what is time?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:07:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26689408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentz123/pseuds/agentz123
Summary: Donald's family helps him prepare for his first date with Daisy.Donsy Week 2020, Day 1 - Date and Day 2 - Family
Relationships: Della Duck & HDL, Donald Duck & Della Duck, Donald Duck & Scrooge McDuck, Donald Duck/Daisy Duck, Scrooge McDuck/"Glittering" Goldie O'Gilt
Series: Donsy Week 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1939792
Comments: 6
Kudos: 73





	1. Chapter 1

It was great to be back home. Back with her family, new and old. And away from the chilly loneliness of the dark celestial sphere.

Della looked into the sky and spotted the moon’s shadows amidst the various blues. 

She shivered and continued skipping along to the pool. 

She slowly crept up the plank and down into the living room of her brother’s houseboat. It was just as homey as she remembered. Maybe even more so, since there was time to add even more family photos. She refrained from smearing her fingerprints all over Webby, Huey, Dewey, and Louie’s laughing faces. 

Their aging faces. 

She sighed. 

She soon spotted her favorite. The one where she was back again with her brother and her uncle, fighting off those hairless beasts. She chuckled when she recalled how they dared to reckon with the powers of the land, air and sea. And their _kids_. Like come on now. Did they really think they stood a chance? 

The photo also reminded her of her brother’s last wish. How he wanted to frame it. Instead of literally _anything else._ There has got to be a million other things that Donald Duck needed, or wanted. 

It was his only picture of her hanging up there. She did notice there were a lot more sitting on the couch with nails and a hammer, but they were dusty. 

Her heart twisted, her valves pinching shut. 

She was dead for 11 years.

She needed to give Donald a hug. 

She stepped into the kitchen and the first thing she saw were Donald’s wagging tail feathers. “Almost got it!” he grunted as he continued tightening the pipes. Every single time Dewey comes to visit he always forgets that he cannot hide his uneaten vegetables in the disposal, since it was so prone to clogs. Louie even suggested sliding them to Launchpad, who’d eat anything, but --

“So, brother --” 

Donald rammed his head on the bottom of the pipes in surprise. There was a sharp and reverberating CLANG that made all of his bones pulse. “What?” he growled, trying to resist the temptation of yanking out all of his hard work and throwing the pipes through the porthole. 

“Are you busy?” 

“Of course not, Della,” he drawled sarcastically. But he backed out from underneath the sink anyway. He was afraid of being apart from her again, even though she swore up and down that she’d never adventure by herself for the rest of her life. “What’s up?” he asked, gentler. 

“Okay, so apparently gaming systems don’t have cords anymore?! Wanna play _Donkey Kong_ with me tonight?” 

“Can’t.” 

“Why not? I thought you weren’t busy.” She swung her feet, nearly kicking him in the head with her metal one. He ducked. 

“Get off of the counter. You’re sitting in a pool of grease.” He continued over her wails of disgust. “Well, I...um…I’m meeting someone,” he mumbled, feeling a tad self-conscious. He hadn’t said those words in _years._

“OOOOOOOOOH! Don has a date!” 

“Shut up!” he giggled. Because he does have a date. With the most amazing woman in the world. 

“Oh, he’s giggly! Who is it?” 

“A woman I met at the IT party.” 

“ _What’s her name!_ ” 

“Daisy,” he sighed, leaning into the puddle and staining his last clean shirt. He noticed that his chest hurt. Either he was lovesick, or the wrench was skewering his sternum. 

It was both. 

Della slid off of the counter, nearly knocking him over as she did so. She didn’t expect the fall to be so _fast._

Will she ever get used to her life back on earth? Will she ever be…

Normal? 

She shook it off. Of course she would. Nothing can stop Della Duck, right? Now to focus on her hot mess of a brother...

She scanned him with a distasteful glare and quickly reached over to smooth down his everlasting hat hair. “ _Woof._ I’ll be back to help you get ready. What time do you have to leave?” 

“Six, but --” 

“See ya at three!” 

“Della!” 

The front door slammed shut in response. 

He sighed and slowly turned to stare at his distorted reflection in the toaster. 

He squawked in surprise as he felt her tight embrace around his shoulders. He had just enough time to squeeze her hands before she ran off again. 

***

“So, nephew --”

Donald rammed his head on the bottom of the railing in surprise. If he didn’t have a concussion, he would’ve believed that this felt quite familiar…

“What’s this about a romantic rendezvous?” 

“I’m gonna kill Della,” he muttered. 

“Now, now. There’s no need for that. Your sister is just excited for you. And I’m a curious old codger.” 

Donald went around his uncle in order to grab a pail of screws. When he lifted it, the handle snapped off and sent the bits of metal rolling around every which way on the deck. He sighed. “Maybe I shouldn’t go.” 

“What are ye talking about, lad? Of course ye should go! You haven’t had a break in years!” 

“What if it doesn’t go well?” 

Scrooge led his nephew over to a deck chair. He seemed so small. 

“Donald, nothing ever goes well for ye.” 

“Thanks.” 

“Aye! Am I wrong?” No response. “That’s what I thought. Now, nothing ever goes well for ye. But everything always turns out great in the end. You’ve raised some fine young men, despite all of yer constant catastrophes. And we got Della back, didn’t we? We’re back, aren’t we?” 

Scrooge knew that it was Donald’s idea to go back for him during the Shadow War, even though he definitely didn’t deserve it. He had never had such a loyal…

Scrooge sighed. He couldn’t limit Donald to just one word. He leaned over and pushed his nephew’s chin up with his thumb after wiping away a tear that had threatened to fall. 

“Now, I’m not going to tell you ‘good luck on your date.’ But I will say _keep working hard._ It always pays off in the end.” 

He planted a kiss on Donald’s forehead. 

“Thanks, Unca Scrooge.”


	2. Chapter 2

Donald swam to the back of his closet, where the attire for special occasions hung. He found a blue blazer littered with moth holes, and a black one with a sunken tiger bite. 

Decisions, decisions… 

“Don!” Della burst into the cramped room, nearly hitting Donald in the back with a swing of the door. “Yikes. Do you have anything else?” She shoved passed him in order to get a better look. “Come on, let’s just go steal from Uncle Scrooge.” 

“Della --” But she was already yanking his arm up the hill and through the kitchen’s patio door. “I’m NOT gonna dress up like an old man.” 

“I’m sure he has something cool in here…” 

A set of ducklings appeared in front of them. “Hey Mom, ready to play that...was it, that Diddy game, you said?” 

“ _Donkey Kong._ And give me just a few minutes. I have to help your uncle with his clothes.” 

Louie scoffed. “And you think that’s going to take only a few minutes?” 

“Yeah, this guy dresses like a sailor for fun,” Dewey continued. 

"What are guys talking about? Don enlisted when he was fifteen. Why do you think his uniforms always look so small?” 

“Wait, what?”

“Uncle Donald was in the navy?” 

She stopped shoving her brother up the stairs. “You didn’t tell them that? 

He sighed. “Can we just go?” 

They all glared at him. 

“I’ll explain later,” he conceded to the four of them, starting into Scrooge’s bedroom, whether Della was following or not. 

“You better,” she growled into his ear. 

“I will. I promise. Now, let’s see what we have here…” 

“What about this one?” 

“Absolutely not. This?” 

“I don’t know, Don. You really think blue is your color?” 

He sighed and put the jacket back. While he was doing so, a golden garment fell onto the floor. 

“What’s Goldie’s dress doing in here?” 

Silence. 

“Yuck!” they exclaimed in unison. 

“Let’s go over there.” 

“ _Way_ over there. OH! Look!” Della ran ahead. “Try this one on!” She shoved it into his hands and he stood there awkwardly. 

She looked at him expectantly. 

He shooed her. 

She rolled her eyes and turned around. He was never shy about this kind of stuff. Why was he starting now? 

Donald already knew the jacket was going to be too big. Once he had turned 17 he was able to fit into Scrooge’s clothes perfectly, some even a bit tight, but he had been struggling to keep food on the table for over a decade and he was a tad self-conscious over his shrunken frame. 

Okay, a lot self-conscious. 

“Are you done yet, Beauty Queen?” 

He finished adjusting the sleeves. “Yeah. What do you think?” 

“Hm…” She smoothed down the lapel and picked off a stray feather. “Keep it open. That ethereal goat must’ve gotten to it and stretched it out. Now for your hair…”

“ _No._ Not after what Dewey did to my head.” 

“It’s just a brush, Don! Come on.” She shoved him down onto their uncle’s bed and pulled one out from a pocket in her cargo shorts. Don didn’t put up much of a fight, to her relief. “Remember that stupid bang you had?” 

“We don’t talk about that.” 

She laughed. She had forgotten how funny her brother was. 

“How come you’re not in a lot of the pictures you have hanging in your boat?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“ _Donald._ ”

“I look like you.” 

“What?” 

“That’s why I don’t really bother with my feathers,” he whispered. 

Della slowly put the brush down. 

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to express how sorry I am, Don. That...that may be the only thing ever to stop Della Duck.” 

"Della…” 

“No. I mean, I know we never talked about it much. And we should. _After_ you go get the girl.” She punched his shoulder before ruffling his hair.


	3. Chapter 3

Surprisingly, Donald arrived on time. He wasn’t mauled by bears, he didn’t get a flat tire, he didn’t fall into a mudslide. He stood in front of the address Daisy had given him and understood that they were supposed to be meeting at the old gym that has been renovated into a community center. 

He suddenly felt very warm, and he turned around. Daisy was approaching him.

His heart skipped a beat. Was he able to pick up her presence? He’s read something in a book once. Everyone who were destined to be were held together by strings. No matter where they both were on the earth, the yarn would make sure that they were always connected. 

Was she...tugging on theirs? 

Maybe?

“Hi.” 

“Hi.” 

“Hi,” he said again, stupidly. 

“I signed us up for this partners’ paint party...thing...if that’s okay!” She quickly added, noting Donald’s reddening feathers. 

“Oh, no, it’s fine! I like art.”

“Really? Who’s your favorite painter?”

He held the door open for her, and they started towards room 103. “Well, I don’t have a favorite, but I do end up liking the pieces by Salvador Doggie the most. The concept of time has always been very interesting to me.” 

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

Oh, no reason. Just how he was discharged from the military at 16, spent time in the Underworld, friends with someone who was stuck in a book for who knows how long, caught up in that demon dimension, almost eaten by dinosaurs…

“Exactly.” He simply said. 

Before she could ask what he meant by that, she caught the eye of Gabby McStabberson at the front of the room going on about a forgotten past and how perhaps working on her carving skills may lead her to the origins of the blade. “Yikes,” Donald continued. “Wanna ditch these palookas and work outside?”

She hooked her arm in his after snatching a ream of paper and some golf pencils. Who even supplies golf pencils at an art meeting? 

Once they got back outside and picked a nice spot, Donald removed his jacket and laid it on the grass. He knew he was going to get an earful and probably a hefty dry cleaning bill from Scrooge later, but he knew how much clothes meant to Daisy. 

She smiled at him before suggesting doing a timed free draw challenge she’s seen online. You get five minutes to do whatever you want, and then you hang it up. 

“Sounds like a plan.” Donald gently set his phone timer next to the stack of pencils. “Ready?”

Thanks to years and years of practice with a needle, Daisy was careful with a pencil. She nimbly sketched Donald’s concentrated expression, the bead of sweat on his brow, his tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth. She added a few strands of hair that stuck out from underneath his sailor’s cap, and she managed to capture the beauty of his squinted eyes. 

The timer went off and Donald revealed a stick figure with a squiggly smile, large eyes, and a bow. “I can’t draw,” he admitted sheepishly. 

“No, you aren’t very good,” she giggled, taking the paper and trying to match the gooey smile he had given her. He laughed. “But I love it anyway. You’ve really given attention to the stars,” she said, noting the crude constellation he had placed in her eyes. “Do you study them?” 

“I did learn a bit for the military, but _Della_ \-- she’s much more of an astronomer than I am!” he chuckled. 

“Who’s Della?” she asked with a twinge of jealousy. It melted when he stated that she was his sister. “Oh, a sister, huh? You’re more of a family man than I thought. When are you going to introduce us?” 

“Oh, um…” he started doing that cute mumbling, the way he did whenever he was nervous. She waited patiently for him to form his thoughts and tell them to her. She knew it was an odd question, especially for a first date, but she felt... _different_ with Donald. She felt as if she had met another part of her soul, one that she didn’t realize she needed until the piece immediately slipped into place. Whenever she was around him, she felt more stable, more grounded, even though her feet were among...well, the stars. “When did you want to meet them?”

She thought for a minute. “How about next weekend?”


End file.
